Tiaret
by AmajoS
Summary: Character history.


Hello. For those of you waitin for my next The Reason Why upload...donÕt worry. IÕm workin on the next part and its going to be uploaded in the next couple of days or so. This story here is a character history I did for a character I had on an online role-playing game called Terris, which at the moment is available only on AOL but will be moving soon to the web. I did it a while ago...but I think its pretty good so I thought IÕd share. I donÕt know if itÕll make much sense unless youÕve played the game...but ah well. 

**Tiaret**

Greetings. I understand it is the custom to tell of oneÕs life upon entering the Guild. So, IÕll tell a bit about myself and my journey here. 

I was raised by my father. My mother having died giving birth to me. He took it hard....he loved her very much. He didnÕt blame me for her death though. Often I wondered how he could not, but he never wavered in his affection toward me. He was a wonderful father. A wonderful man. 

In his prime, he was a great and noble knight. There was a time when the mention of his name inspired the respectful silence of even his enemies. A time when his sword rang across the battlefield in defense of that was good and true. All that changed one horrible day when I was but eight years old. I remember it still. 

* * * 

ÒBring him in! Quickly!Ó a strange manÕs voice echoed down the long dark hall waking a young girl from strange dreams. Rubbing sleep-sand from her eyes, the girl looked around in confusion. Where was her nurse? What are those voices? the girl wondered. Carefully she slid out of bed and slipped out of her room. 

The girl tip toed down the hall to the parlor where she hid behind a large planter and watched the strange happenings. The great doors were flung open and men ran in and out trailing mud and rain all over her fatherÕs favorite rug. The girl marveled that Margaret hadnÕt come after the men with her broom like she had her fatherÕs hounds when they had tracked all over this rug. This rug wasnÕt just her fatherÕs favorite, it was MargaretÕs pride and joy. The head mistress suffered no dirt on the rug and even made her father remove his shoes before stepping on it. The girlÕs bewilderment increased when none other than Margaret dashed into the foyer dragging her muddy skirts across the rug. What followed her in though brought a spike of fear into the little girlÕs heart. 

Two men stumbled in through the doors, struggling to carry a third. Biting her lip in fear, the girl crept along toward the door to the dining hall where the men had carried the other whom the girl could tell was terribly injured. Sneaking in completely unnoticed, the child stood in a corner and watched in horror as these strange unknown men worked to save the man she could now see was her father. 

For hours the men toiled over the still body of her only parent. Blood flowed freely from nightmarish wounds and spilled off the table onto the floor. Her nurse Elloise and Margaret both assisted the men. None of the adults noticed the little girl anxiously watching them. Finally, near dawn, the men and women stood back from the table. The girl thought for sure that the battle had been lost....that her father had died and left her alone in the world. Unable to contain the grief, a sob escaped her and she hurried over to her fatherÕs side. 

ÒChild!Ó Elloise cried in dismay. The girl ignored her nurse and grabbed her fatherÕs hand. Clutching his large hand in her two small ones she pleaded with him to come back...to not leave her. Elloise pulled the girl away and held her tightly. 

ÒShh....shh Love.Ó the nurse said softly. ÒYour father isnÕt dead.....heÕs just badly hurt.Ó Elloise told the distraught girl. She couldnÕt bring her self to meet the childÕs eyes though. ÒHeÕll be fine...he just needs to rest.Ó 

The girl pulled back and looked at her nurse. She could tell that the woman wasnÕt being completely honest. That she was hiding something. She ignored it though. She needed to believe her....she needed to believe that her father was going to be ok. 

* * * 

My father did live. He never completely recovered however. His injuries were so severe that he was unable to return to the battlefield. It was several years before he was even able to leave the manor. I stayed by his side the whole time. It was during this long period that my father began teaching me the meaning of honor, and what it is to fight for and defend what is true. We spent several nights sitting by the the fire talking. One night, when I was ten, he told me about my name, and why he chose it. 

* * * 

The girl carried a tray, being careful not to spill any of the the hot tea. This was something she insisted on doing herself. Margaret and Elloise helped her to make the tea and set up the tray...but she carried it to her father. This was their time together. 

Once sheÕd set the tray down on the short table that sat between the two chairs nestled beside the great fireplace, she handed her father his cup and settled into her chair. Father and daughter shared a moment of comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth and each otherÕs company. After a time, the girl turned to her father. ÒTell me a story Papa.Ó she asked. 

The man sat for a moment sipping his tea, considering her request. ÒTiaret....have I ever told you what your name means?Ó 

She sat up straighter. ÒNo, Papa....you havenÕt. What does it mean?Ó 

Her father set his cup down and regarded his daughter. ÒYour name means Lioness.Ó After a short pause he continued, ÒLions are the kings of beasts Tia. They are the most noble of creatures. They are the bravest of hunters and the most ferocious protectors. Among all the great cats, lions alone hunt in a group. A pride its called. It is because of these qualities that the lion has been immortalized for centuries as the embodiment of all that is good and honorable.Ó Another pause as he lifted his cup and took a small sip of the air cooled tea. ÒThe image of the lion graces our familyÕs crest.Ó He added gesturing toward the tapestry hanging above the mantel. He regarded his young daughter, who had so patiently taken care of him these past two years. ÒI knew when you were born Tiaret that you were special. That is why I named you after the noble lion. I knew that you would live up to the name.....and you have Tia. No daughter could be more dedicated to her father than you have been. I want you to know that I am proud of you Tiaret.Ó Saying all this had tired the old, lame man out and he shortly there-after, he dozed off. 

* * * 

After that night, I vowed that I would live up to my name. I would become a knight, like my father had been....and his father before him. When I told my father of my decision, he was pleased and obviously proud. He saw to my training himself. Hiring the best swordsmen to practice with me, since he could not. He would sit to the side, pointing out where improvements were needed and praising accomplished skills. During this time, he improved greatly in health. I think that my training gave him purpose. Something to look forward to. This thought pleased me greatly and made me try even harder to do well. For nearly eight years I worked to master the skills necessary to join the Guild of Knights. 

Something happened though, that nearly destroyed it all. My father died in his sleep two months before my eighteenth birthday. It devastated me. I was totally lost. I gave up my training, I ignored my friends. The only people I would speak to were my old nurse Elloise, and the head-mistress Margaret. They tried to get me to leave the manor....to return to my training. I ignored their pleas. I couldnÕt imagine being able to do it alone...without my father there to support and encourage me. My eighteenth birthday came and I spent it alone locked in my room, miserably saying goodbye to all my dreams of knighthood. 

* * * 

The young woman walked down a well worn path. She looked curiously at her surroundings. They were so familiar....she was certain sheÕd seen this place before. It was on the tip of her mind...if she could only remember. Just as she was sure she was about to remember...she came to a fork in the path. Looking to her right, she saw the path rising up a gradually steepening hill. It was strewn with rocks and filled with ruts and cracks some of which were very large and would have to be navigated very carefully. To her left, the path sloped gently down the hill and was smooth and well traveled. Trees on each side of the trail over lapped creating a thick canopy over the top allowing little sunlight in. It appeared to be a gloomy, cold way to go despite the apparent ease of travel. She stood there considering for a moment which way to go. She thought she might rather go right, but looking at the obstacles, she turned away believing that there was no way she could get through them all alone. SheÕd gotten only a short distance down the path to the left when someone called her name. 

ÒTiaret.Ó 

She turned and saw a man standing at the fork of the path where sheÕd been only moments before. For a instant she did not recognize the man..but that moment of confusion passed and she saw it was her father standing before her. Not as he had been when she last saw him, old and frail. Needing to be helped from room to room on wasted limbs destroyed in a long ago battle. No...this man was her father as he had once been. Sound and strong. He was in full battle armour and carried his finest sword. He stood tall and proud and every bit of him shined. He smiled at her sadly. 

ÒYouÕve gotten lost Tia.Ó He said softly. Then he pointed up the path to the right. Tiaret turned and looked where he indicated and sighed in amazement. Sitting along the path she had turned away from was a pride of lions. They sat as if waiting, watching her and her father. Tiaret looked back toward her father, to ask him what it meant...but he was gone. The young woman eyes spilled over and she sighed again, this time in disappointment. She didnÕt even get to say goodbye. 

Just then, a voice whispered in the wind, ÒYour name means Lioness.Ó Tiaret smiled then, knowing it was her fatherÕs voice sheÕd heard and what she had to do. She went back up the path to the fork and began climbing up the right side. 

* * * 

When I woke from that dream, I wasted no time. IÕd strayed down the wrong path in my life since my father died....and was past time to get back on the right one. I scrawled a quick note for Elloise and Margaret, telling them to not worry, then I changed out of my bedclothes into my long neglected armour. I gathered up my sword and crept out of the manor to the lair of the banderlang. It was a close battle. IÕd spent quite a while without practicing and it showed. I was finally victorious however, and severed the beastÕs head. 

When I was accepted into the Guild....I felt so many emotions all at once. Pride, happiness, a bit of sorrow that my father wasnÕt there...but at the same time...I was content knowing that he was. Mostly I was pleased that IÕd done what IÕd vowed to myself so long ago and I looked forward to the challenges ahead. 


End file.
